


The Ice-Maiden

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: The Caustic Ticking of the Clock [2]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Death of a Female OC, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Den lille havfrue" showed the Bob-Whites' reactions to a classmate's death. But how do the people closest to her feel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ice-Maiden

Thursday dawns gray and gloomy, but to take the good with the bad, the rain has stopped for the first time in a week. Another bonus is that there’s finally no snow predicted for the next few days. The weather has been consistently awful all throughout the county, to the point that many school sports have simply been unable to continue their seasons due to continual practice cancellations and games rescheduling.

The on and off drumming of a torrential downpour on the roof has kept Cain tossing and turning the entire night, unable to sleep peacefully. He finally rises, not feeling refreshed at all, as the sky is lightening while remaining overcast. The gray clouds are dense, blocking any true hint of the sun.  

He feels like a zombie throughout his entire morning routine and longs to go back to bed. The muscles of his lithe frame feel overly tight, and simple stretches do nothing to ease the tension. Upon catching his reflection in the mirror, Cain grimaces— his usually sleek platinum blond hair is dull, rendering his skin ashy and emphasizing the shadows under his eyes. Christ, he looks like he just walked off of the movie poster for  _ The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari _ .

When he’s managed to finish getting ready, he can’t even work up an appetite for breakfast. Cain settles for pouring chocolate chai latte into a travel mug, making certain to add ice, and snagging a blueberry muffin. It’s the last one in the box, so Cain is sure to toss the plastic container into the recycling bin. He needs to remember to go grocery shopping before his father returns from his business trip. Adam Carcer is away more often than he is present, and Cain can’t help but think it’s inconsiderate to leave the house bereft of food and drink for his father’s return home.

Just after Cain heads into the garage, he remembers to write the check for the housekeeper. He places it in an envelope, which he leaves in its usual spot on the dining room table. He’s already in the car when he remembers he needs the updated insurance card for the glovebox of his Dodge Charger, so he doubles back yet again, palm pressed firmly against his forehead. Once he gets back to the Charger, he checks to make sure he has his non-perishable goods for the history club’s food drive; he does. Well, at least he remembered something this morning. 

To Cain’s dismay, upon turning on the weather forecast, he discovers that intermittent showers are expected throughout the afternoon. There is nothing he hates more than coming back to his house when it’s raining. The windows are large, as expected for a modern home like his, engineered to allow in as much natural light as possible. Arriving at the house in the rain to find each and every of the massive windows dark and empty never fails to be depressing.

And then there’s always the worry about the moderately-sized man-made waterfall, located in front of the house, flooding over the pond and damaging the landscaping job. Adam always assures him that it won’t, due to it being an artificial construct specifically designed to avoid the issue, but Cain worries now and again all the same.

As Cain is making his way into the Sleepyside High parking lot, Jim Frayne’s white Escalade swerves in front of him and cuts him off. Scowling, Cain gives him the finger; at times like these, he understands why Sunny despises the kid. After his traffic misadventure, though, he manages to grab the bags of food and proceed into the building without further incident. 

Flashing his morning pass to the hall monitor on duty, Cain makes his way to Mr. McLane’s classroom. Richard is the only one there at the moment, documenting the contents of the numerous cardboard boxes filled grocery items.

“Morning, Richard!” Cain greets him, smiling for the first time that day. One of his closest friends and lacrosse buddies, Richard Gentry is a comfortable constant in his life. “I’ve brought some more stuff for the food drive.”

“Hey, Cain,” Richard says with a grin, his sparkling white teeth a sharp contrast against his ebony skin. He unfolds himself from behind the desk, standing to his full height of six foot two, and reaches out a well-muscled arm to take one of the overflowing canvas bags from Cain’s hands. “Damn! Looks like you just about cleaned out your pantry.”

Cain shrugs, beginning to unload the food items into the waiting cardboard crates. “I needed a reminder to go shopping, anyway. Adam is going to be home tonight, and I forgot to assemble a grocery list for the housekeeper.”

“My parents have been after me to get you two to come over for dinner. Would he be home in time tonight?” Richard asks.

“Nah, he likely won’t be in until close to midnight. I can be there, though, if you’ll have me,” Cain replies with a smile.

Richard playfully punches Cain on the arm. “Who wouldn’t, if they had the chance?”

Arguing voices interrupt their conversation, and Sunny and Zephyr Constantinos saunter into the room. With their matching long, lean forms and wild, ruffled, dark hair, it’s evident to even the most oblivious of humanity that they’re brothers.

“Can’t I just have one bite?” Zephyr pleads, dropping the grocery bags of donations into one of the empty crates.

“No,” Sunny replies as he follows suit, while making sure to hold his breakfast burrito out of his younger brother’s grasp. “This is mine. I made it. You could have made one for yourself, but you didn’t.”

“I was running late!” Zephyr protests.

“And you made me late,” Sunny notes. “Which wouldn’t happen if you would wake up fifteen goddamn minutes earlier. It’s not my problem if you don’t give yourself enough time to eat breakfast.”

“Here.” Cain offers his uneaten blueberry muffin to Zephyr, who accepts it eagerly.

“Thanks, Cain!” He says, taking a large bite.

“Beware, Cain. Zeph is like a Gremlin— feed him once and you’ll never get rid of him,” Sunny informs him.

“Screw you!” Zephyr responds through a mouthful of pastry.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s gross,” Sunny reprimands.

“Saw your best friend in the parking lot this morning,” Cain tells Sunny. “Jim Frayne in his white Escalade.”

Sunny makes a face. “Screw  _ him _ . It’s a wonder he can legally drive considering how spineless he is.”

Cain chuckles, shaking his head. He’d forgotten how vitriolic Sunny could be when it came to Frayne. “Still harping on that one, are you, Sunny?”

“Wait, what happened?” Zephyr asks, swallowing the last bite of muffin. “Frayne’s the kid that the millionaire Wheeler guy adopted, right?

“Yeah, that’s him. In February of  _ last year— _ ” Richard shoots Sunny a pointed look “—the school was threatening to shut down all private student clubs due to ‘gang activity.’” The latter phrase is stressed with a distinct sarcastic emphasis. “Frayne’s club—"

“His pathetic little clique was going to get shut down, and Frayne just laid down and let the school board and administration walk all over him,” Sunny says in disgust. “He doesn’t even have the backbone to stand up for his First Amendment rights.”

“Of course, if he did hire a lawyer and bring a suit against the school, you’d hate him for using his family’s wealth and power to get his way,” Richard pointed out. “Face it, Sunny. It’s not that you dislike Frayne for anything he did. You just don’t like him at all.”

“Hmph,” is Sunny’s only response.

Cain keeps silent throughout the exchange. Once he watched Sunny viciously attack a member of an opposing sports team for mocking Frayne’s status as an adopted child. He’s since suspected that Sunny, adopted himself by his stepfather, has deeper issues relating to Frayne than he ever cares to admit.

The first bell rings, signalling students to their lockers and homerooms, and the first faint noises of the approaching student body drift down the halls to them. Automatically, Cain gathers his belongings, and his friends do likewise.

“Do you need any help taking the donations down to the food bank tomorrow?” Cain asks Richard.

“I definitely wouldn’t mind,” Richard replies. “Thanks, Cain.”

“You can count on me and Muscles over here to help out as well,” Sunny drawls, reaching over and jostling his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Cool. I’ll text you tomorrow right at the end of class when I need your help,” Richard promises.

Cain grimaces at the sky when they pass by a window. “It’s still miserable out. I’m not going to have energy for anything today.” 

“You said it,” Sunny sighs. “It’s March of senior year, and I’m ready to graduate.”

“Tell me about it,” Cain groans.

Predictably, the day seems to take eons to pass, the gloomy weather sapping the energy of students and instructors alike. Cain finds himself fixated on the clock, wishing desperately it were Friday.

Throughout the day, there’s an odd, nervous churning in his stomach, as though he’s forgotten something important. In seventh period, he finally discovers why.

He’s browsing the shelves in the library, his pacing less due to literary appetite than general restlessness. Technically, he’s supposed to be working on an essay, which is why he’s allowed to be at the library during study hall in the first place. But for whatever reason, Cain feels too tense, too restless, to concentrate at the moment.

As he stands at the shelf near the librarian office, murmuring voices waft through the open door. Cain filters them out until a familiar name startles him to full focus.

“—Esther Kerioth.” The name is spoken in a hushed, shocked tone, and Cain begins to listen intently.

“What happened to her?” Another voice asks. He’s fairly certain it’s Mrs. Bannick, one of the assistant librarians.

The first voice, who Cain thinks might be Mrs. Haberg, the chief librarian, responds. “Her body was found on Croton Point Beach this morning. Apparently, no one’s seen her since she left school here yesterday. Right now, the authorities think she slipped and fell into the river during her walk home and drowned. You know how high the river has been lately.”

The bottom drops out from Cain’s stomach, and bright spots flare into his field of vision.

_ Esther’s body was found. _

_ Esther’s body was found. _

_ Esther’s body was found. _

He needs to leave. Now.

_ Esther’s body was found. Esther’s body was found. Esther’s body was found. Esther’s body was found. Esther’s body was found. Esther’s body was found. _

Monica. Monica should leave, too. He needs to find her so they could leave together. They both need to get out of here.

A strange calm washes over Cain as he moves to the passageway that serves the dual function of the library entrance and exit. He stops by the circulation desk to swipe back his hall pass. Regulations say he needs to have it signed before leaving, but right now, who gives a damn?

He texts Monica quickly, telling her to ditch class, gather her belongings, and meet at the auditorium entrance, from where they’ll be leaving. He mentions their departure is urgent, but there’s no time to fully explain.

Casting a furtive look around to ascertain no one witnesses his departure, Cain slips out the door and makes his way to his locker. Several times he passes teachers and aides, who he greets with a hello and a smile that feels plastic and foreign on his face.

When Cain reaches his locker, time has lost meaning; he feels like the minutes are moving both too slowly and too quickly. The conversation he overheard beats a tattoo into his brain.

_ Esther’s body was found, Esther’s body was found, Esther’s body was found, Esther’s body was found, Esther’s body was found, Esther’s body was found. _

Automatically, Cain finds himself searching to remember which of his school subjects have homework and subsequently loading class materials into his Marc Jacobs backpack. He questions the action at first— it’s not like his mind will be on homework tonight— but ultimately continues. At this point, it doesn’t matter.

Cain slams his locker shut and begins to leave.

_ Esther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfoundEsther’sbodywasfound— _

This guilt trip isn’t working. He needs to calm down.

Stopping in his tracks, Cain focuses on controlling his pulse and breathing, taking deep, even inhales and exhales. After several moments, his heartbeat began to slow, and he resumes his trek.

That’s better. He needs to keep it together for when he tells Monica.

Even as Cain waits by the auditorium for Monica, his stomach twists in knots and his fingers refuse to cease their tremors. Half-formed thoughts race around his brain, but he still manages to arrive at a firm conclusion. He needs to tell Monica outright about the discovery of the body. He doesn’t want to make her wait in dread.

The sight of Monica walking toward him breaks Cain away from his thoughts. She looks beautiful, but that’s no surprise; she always does. She’s wearing some kind of dark leather boots that lace up to her knees. Her tight minidress is black and her long cardigan is red-violet, with a pattern knitted into the texture. She has a great body from all of her tennis playing, her makeup is glamorous— like a Bond Girl’s— without being overpowering. Any guy— fuck it, any girl— would be lucky to date her.

She smiles and waves when he raises his head to look at her. His mouth is dry and he feels like he might vomit.

“Hey,” Monica says breathlessly as she comes to stand beside him. “Your texts were so urgent. What’s up?”

“No time,” Cain replies, ignoring her expectant expression as he pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against. “You didn’t bring a car today, did you?”

“Nope, my father took mine while his in the shop,” Monica answers, sending him a searching look. 

“Then let’s take my Charger and get out of here. I’ll explain on the way,” Cain offers.

Ordinarily, Monica would demand an explanation and refuse to leave with him until one was provided. Now, though, she studies his face for several seconds, and then nods.

“Let’s go,” she says, and they cross the lobby and exit the building at a brisk pace. The sky is ominous as as they proceed to the Charger, but it’s not raining at the moment.

Cain fumbles with the remote as he unlocks the car, and when he slides inside, he has clutch the steering wheel tightly to make his hands stop trembling. Monica joins him, pulling the passenger door shut, trapping them inside together. God, he’s going to be sick to his stomach.

Not waiting for her to buckle her seat belt, Cain starts the ignition and maneuvers out of his parking space, continuing to the school driveway. Mentally steeling his resolve, Cain takes a deep breath as he stops at the edge, flipping his turn signal and waiting to merge into street traffic. 

“Esther’s body was found this morning,” he states, staring determinedly at the road. Maybe he’s a coward for not looking Monica in the eye when he delivers the news, but it doesn’t actually matter now, and honestly, he feels too awful to really give a damn. “I didn’t think it would be good for either of us to be in school when we heard.”

Cain doesn’t risk looking over at Monica. He has to keep his composure. 

For an eternity, Monica simply absorbs his words in silence. Then her breath hitches, and then she starts shaking, and soon she’s outright sobbing.

Grinding his teeth and gripping the wheel till his knuckles turn white, Cain whips the Charger into the next empty parking lot he sees. The adjoining building just so happens to be a church. Cain parks as far away from the doors as possible, in a somewhat private corner where a cluster willow trees lend a protective canopy. 

For a time they simply sit in the car, the only sounds Monica’s sobbing and intermittent gales of wind. Finally, Cain dares a glance at her as reaches into the middle compartment and offers her a travel packet of tissues. Per usual, his timing is horrendous, and he finds himself meeting her gaze head-on. 

“Monica, I’m sorry.” His apology is useless at this point, but at the very least, it’s honest. 

She looks at him steadily, her smoky eye makeup in streaks down her face and her rosy lip color smudged. She accepts the package of tissues, but doesn’t reply.

Cain doesn’t push. He’s just as far into this disaster as he’s ever going to get out, and Monica certainly has a right to be angry.

“If I could change any of this, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he says quietly.

The silence resumes, and Monica’s sobs gradually slow to a stop, and her breathing evens out. She withdraws a tissue from the packet and scrubs at her ruined makeup.

Red Hot Chili Peppers’s “Californication” suddenly blares from his phone, and Cain would cringe at the utterly unfortunate timing if he wasn’t extraordinarily grateful for the distraction. A glance at the screen tells him it’s Richard who’s calling him. It’s just past three o’clock, and classes have now been let out for the day— Esther’s death was likely announced over the high school loudspeaker just a few minutes ago.

“I’m taking this,” Cain says, indicating his phone and opening the car door. He takes his leave as he answers the call, making his way to a clump of willow trees out of earshot of the car. “Hey, Richard.”

“Cain, you all right?” Richard’s voice is worried. “We just heard about Esther.”

“I overhear some librarians gossiping about it at the beginning of seventh period. I grabbed Monica and got the hell out. I’m still with her.” Cain is surprised by the subdued tone of his own voice.

“Probably the best choice,” Richard affirms. “Tell you what— drop by my house and stay for dinner. Bring Monica, too, if she wants. Your dad won’t be home until late, and you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Cain hesitates. There’s never been a time when he’s felt less sociable. “I don’t know,” he hedges.

“C’mon, Cain,” Richard urges. “Do this for me, if not for yourself. My parents will never let me hear the end of it if they think I left you to twist in the wind with all this chaos going on around you.”

Cain’s stomach lurches with guilt; there’s been enough people hurt by him today. “All right. Thanks, Richard. I’ll ask Monica. We’ll probably get to your place around five-thirty or so.”

“Good for you, man. Don’t be afraid to come over earlier if you want to,” Richard tells him kindly.

A small smile curves over Cain’s lips. As terrible as this situation is, he’s grateful for his friend’s willingness to see him through it.

“Thank you, Richard,” he says warmly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Take care, Cain,” Richard tells him. “Later, then.”

Cain ends the call, but remains where he stands for several moments, unmoving. His blood suddenly feels superheated, the temperature rising above its boiling point, hissing and sizzling beneath his cold skin. A spontaneous awareness of his pulse pounding through each and every one of his veins floods his brain.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Cain presses his palms against his temples. He’s got to keep it together. Just for Monica. But then for tonight, with Richard. And tomorrow, at school. And then the next few days, for the investigation.

_ Dear God, fuck this. _

Sighing heavily, Cain returns to the car. For several more minutes, he and Monica sit beside each other in leaden silence.

Staring straight ahead, Monica issues a stony request. “Cain, I’d like you to take me home, now, please.” 

Silently, Cain starts the engine, puts the car in drive, and cruises out of the lot, cutting carelessly across the parking space. It’s not until they’re back on the main road that he speaks.

“The call was from Richard. The entire school knows about Esther right now.” He glances tentatively at Monica, who’s staring out the window.

“What about the investigation?” Monica asks heavily without turning to look at him.

“He didn’t say anything about it. But he invited us to dinner at his place, if you’re interested.” Cain watches her speculatively.

Monica doesn’t speak for the rest of the drive, and Cain makes no further attempts at conversation. Instead, he connects his phone to the car radio and selects a playlist, letting music emanate softly throughout the vehicle. 

After an eternity in the car, they pull into Monica’s neighborhood. The development is a collection of soulless suburban McMansions, each one a cookie cutter of the last. Cain notes the lack of waterfalls in any of the front lawns, which are also bereft of any grown trees— just saplings that still require support stakes to stand. There are no leaves on any of the branches, nor blooms in the flower beds; the scarcity of sunlight this spring has robbed the foliage and plants the chance to emerge. The unending bareness of the lawns, combined with the austerity of the home designs, locks the entire neighborhood into a stifling atmosphere of pervasive desolation. 

He stops the car at the Andersen home, which reposes in the dead center at the end of the cul-de-sac. The gardens in front of the house and lining the walkway are barren, and the home sits dismal and faceless against a gray sky, its lack of distinction mirrored on all sides by the surrounding houses. Heavy drapes hang in each of the windows, effectively blocking out any kind of natural light.

Monica looks at him squarely, flint in her gaze. “I’m not going to Richard’s tonight. But you go on. Go, and be normal.”

“Okay,” Cain says quietly. “But Monica?”

“Yes?” She responds in a tone of mixed weariness and wariness.

“If there was anything I could do to change this situation, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” Cain tells her seriously.

Monica’s mouth tightens, and just before opening the door of the Charger, she grabs Cain’s phone, quickly fiddling with the music settings so the song currently playing now blasts from the stereo at ear-splitting volume. As she shuts the door and walks up the drive, “Jenny Was a Friend of Mine,” by The Killers inundates the inside of the car.

Without looking away from Monica’s retreating form, Cain lowers the volume and chooses a new song at random, which happens to be “London Calling” by The Clash.

With at least two hours to go until dinner at the Gentrys’ home, Cain decides it’s just as good of a time as any to go grocery shopping. At the store, he takes his time, idling in each aisle, making his selections carefully. Eggs for breakfast, bread for lunch, steaks for dinner. Fruit for smoothies: strawberries, mangoes, coconuts, agaves, tangerines, pineapples, kiwis, and pomegranates.Vegetables, salad dressings, organic fruit juice, almond milk. He makes sure to purchase an elaborate cake to give to the Gentrys later that evening.

Time seems to slow to a crawl, and it’s surreal to consider he’s surrounded by people simply going about their business and following their normal routines, given the enormous upheaval in his life at the moment. Children dart in and out of the aisles, laughing and carefree. Shoppers idly chat on their phones with their spouses about dinner plans. Cain is an outlier here, and he wonders if anyone beyond himself is able to see it. 

Feeling out of sorts and unenthusiastic about the prospect of interpersonal interaction, Cain opts for the self-checkout. He pays with his father’s Platinum Mastercard, and uses it again to purchase gas at a station on the drive back to the house. His movements are automatic, and it’s not until several moments after acting that his activities register with him.

_ Christ. _ He needs to get himself together before going to see Richard.

The house is dark when Cain pulls into the winding driveway. Instead of giving off a welcoming atmosphere, the ultramodern house appears to loom forebodingly before him, dim and empty. 

Inside, he finds that the housekeeper has come and gone, taking her payment with her. Swiftly, Cain stows away the groceries. The softs clinks and dull thuds of stacking food products in the pantry and refrigerator is the only sound in the house. Cain briefly considers playing music, but the silence of the house feels nearly sacrosanct, a reverential silence he is forbidden to violate.

The blare of his phone ringing startles Cain from his trance, and the oranges he’s unloading drop to the floor. Swearing, Cain grabs his phone from the counter. It’s his father calling. 

Deep annoyance surges through Cain at the sight of the name on the screen, but Cain suppresses it from his voice when he answers. “Hello?”

“Hey, Cain,” Adam Carcer’s overly jovial voice greets him. “How’s Sleepyside?”

In a split second, Cain is forced to making a decision. He can either reveal Esther’s fate now, or wait until his father returns. Might as well deal with it now. “One of my classmates died today. Esther Kerioth. They think she drowned because of how high the river has been.”

For a moment, there’s only silence on the end of the phone, and Cain wanders into the dining room, crossing over to the in-home bar. As a guest, it would only be polite for him to take a bottle of wine over to the Gentry home tonight.

“Your Esther?” His father asks finally. “The girl you were together with?”

“That’s the one,” Cain confirms, examining the wine bottle labels.

“She’s _ dead _ ?” His father repeats. “Cain, listen to me. I’ve got a dinner meeting I have to be ready for, but I wanted to let you know I’ll be here another week—”

“That’s fine,” Cain says, cutting his father off. He forgets where “here” is, exactly. Hawaii? California? Not that it matters much. “Richard invited me to have dinner at his house, so I’ll be there for most of the evening.”

“That’s good,” his father says, even though Cain never requested permission or approval. “At times like these, a person needs to be with their friends and family.”

There is a pause in the conversation.

“Good night,” Cain says curtly, signalling the end of the phone call. He doesn’t listen to his father’s goodbye before hanging up.

Gripping his phone tightly, Cain seizes the most expensive bottle of wine he can locate, and sets it out on the table beside the cake, so he’ll remember to bring it to the car. 

Abandoning his dazed pace, Cain rushes up the stairs and practically throws himself into the free-standing shower of his private bathroom. He lets the water from the downpour-style panel cascade over his body as he scrubs at his limbs. He wishes all the images and memories of Esther and Monica could wash off of him, slip from beneath his skin, swirl down the drain, and vanish from his life altogether, forever.

Forcing himself out of the shower, Cain rubs the steam off the earth-glazed mirror and finds himself contemplating his reflection for the second time that day. After all that’s happened, it’s almost strange to think only a matter of hours have passed. 

A faint memory stirs in his mind about a woman locked in a tower who could only watch the world through a mirror or else become victim to a curse. It’s from some Arthurian legend he studied in school years ago. He doesn’t recall much from it, other than that the curse took hold and the woman froze to death in a lake.

A sudden surge of loathing for Monica and Esther pumps through his veins with such intensity that Cain feels dizzy. Damn Monica for involving him in this fiasco. Damn Esther for dying. God, he should have rid himself of the both of them a long time ago. 

But his hatred ebbs away as spontaneously as it took hold, leaving Cain weary and drained. He has an appearance to make tonight, regardless of his personal emotions. 

Resignedly, he withdraws his hair dryer; he’s been the reluctant participant of enough social functions that he’s well-versed in quickly making himself presentable. Besides, he’d make a poor guest if he were to arrive at the Gentry home with wet hair, as though he were some bedraggled urchin who’d just crawled out of the gutter. 

On a related note, he has his outfit to consider. Again, he’s a guest, and it wouldn’t be gracious to present himself in casual clothes. But then, to their knowledge, he is someone who just lost his on-again off-again girlfriend, and his sartorial choice should reflect such.

Eventually, Cain enters the Charger with the wine and the cake, clad in an ensemble assembled based on what he believes people might wear to church. Given that this gathering at the Gentry home is not unlike a wake or memorial service, he finds his fashion selection very appropriate.

The rain is beginning again when Cain drives out to Richard’s house. He chooses the long route, driving along the river as the last hints of daylight fade in the distance, leaving the swollen waters murky and menacing. God, Esther’s last moments must have been a mix terror and dread at her situation— once she was in the water, she’d probably realized her death was inevitable, given the river was higher and stronger than ever.   

The Gentry home, a large Queen Anne house, has several cars lined in front of it. Cain recognizes Sunny’s vehicle, as well as both of his parents. Swell; yet another gathering where he goes in alone like some unloved orphan child.

He parks the car and gathers his gifts, steeling himself for the evening ahead of him. He’ll probably only stay for three hours at max, but that’s three hours where he has to keep himself under tight control without revealing himself to anyone.

Thalia Constantinos, Sunny and Zephyr’s mother, answers the door, urging him inside. “Oh, Cain, I’m so glad you’re all right. It’s horrible about Esther.” She takes the items from his arms, sets them aside, and wraps him in an embrace, as though she’s comforting one of her own children. “We’re here for you, Cain. Please don’t forget that.”

For a moment, Cain lets her hug him. God, he’s forgotten what it’s like to simply have someone wholeheartedly hold him out of genuine affection, without any expectation of gratification or favor in return. 

But after the moment has passed, Cain remembers why he’s here to begin with, and reluctantly pulls away.

* * *

On the clear, transparent ground sat the Ice Maiden. She raised herself towards Rudy, and kissed his feet; and instantly a cold, deathly chill, like an electric shock, passed through his limbs. Ice or fire! It was impossible to tell, the shock was so instantaneous.

“Mine! mine!” sounded around him, and within him; “I kissed thee when thou wert a little child. I once kissed thee on the mouth, and now I have kissed thee from heel to toe; thou art wholly mine.” And then he disappeared in the clear, blue water.

—Hans Christian Andersen, "The Ice-Maiden"


End file.
